


Less Than a River

by seashadows



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LiveJournal Prompt, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seashadows/pseuds/seashadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Spock comes across his captain crying in the hallway, he feels the illogical need to make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Less Than a River

In the five months that he had spent on the Enterprise thus far, Spock had seen a good deal of strange things in the hallways. For example, he was quite used to seeing Ensign Chekov run out of the Jeffries tube on the residential deck, face flushed and pants undone (he suspected Lieutenant Sulu to be the culprit, but this was never conclusively proven, even though Chekov’s new cheerfulness on the bridge corroborated his suspicions). He had once seen Lieutenant Gaila braiding her hair while using the surface of a bulkhead as a mirror. He had even, once, had the dubious privilege of observing Keenser’s mating dance.   
  
But Spock had _never_ , in five months, come across Captain Kirk huddled on the floor of a deserted hallway, hugging his knees and _crying_.   
  
For five point three seven seconds, Spock could only stare. After said time, his muscles seemed to unclench, and he knelt down on the floor beside Kirk. “Captain, are you unwell?” If Kirk was injured, he would have to be brought to sickbay immediately; Spock knew that crying was often indicative of severe pain in humans, or of equally severe illness.   
  
Kirk took his face out of his knees and looked at him. Tears ran from his reddened eyes and down his cheeks, and Spock felt an odd twinge somewhere in the region of his upper abdomen. “I’m fine,” he got out, his voice choked and strained. “You mind leaving me alone?”   
  
“I have never seen you cry before,” Spock said, “and the sight is disconcerting. Are you certain that you are uninjured?”   
  
The captain was silent for a long moment. “The away mission,” he finally said. “I…I knew it was dangerous, but all th-those Security ensigns.” His eyes squeezed shut, seemingly against the emotion that his words brought forth. Spock knew exactly what he was talking about. The recent away mission on Burala Prime had ended badly, with seven members of the ship’s security team eviscerated on the ice by a local animal. “Could’ve done something.”   
  
“You could not have predicted the events of the away mission, Captain,” Spock told him. The memory of those young faces, partially torn away by sharp claws, threatened to turn even his stomach; its effect on Kirk would, of course, be more severe.  
  
It was only logical that he cried, and even more so that Spock ease him out of his emotion with the truth. Instead of being soothed, though, Kirk held his hands over his face and sobbed harder, his body shaking with the force of it.   
  
Spock had rarely cried, even as a child; however, when he had, his mother had comforted him physically. It seemed that the same sort of comfort was called for now. He wrapped a hesitant arm around Kirk’s shoulders – captain and friend though he was, they did not often touch – and pulled him close, gently guiding his head to his own chest. If Kirk needed to cry, it was only logical that something absorb his tears.   
  
“Spock,” Kirk whispered against the blue fabric of Spock’s uniform shirt, fisting a hand into the material. His breath shuddered unevenly, and Spock felt his shirt dampen with tears. Still, it seemed as though this was helping – the tension in Kirk had lessened. Relief, now, rather than catharsis. On an impulse, Spock bent his head and kissed his captain’s soft gold hair.   
  
“It is not your fault,” he murmured, although it was illogical to be so vague when he knew what ‘it’ was.

Slowly, Kirk’s sobs began to ease, tapering off into sniffles, then shaky breathing against Spock’s chest. He lifted his head, exposing the tears on his face, and Spock felt an illogical urge to kiss them away as well. “Thanks. I…that doesn’t usually happen.”   
  
“I know it does not usually happen,” Spock told him, “but perhaps it should. Did it not relieve you of your guilt?”   
  
Kirk seemed to think that over. “Yeah. It did.” He smiled – a little shaky and damp, but still a smile. “Yeah…” He kissed Spock’s cheek, and Spock was surprised to feel heat spread out from said cheek at the unexpected action. “Sorry.”   
  
“Do not apologize. The action brought you comfort.” Although it brought _dis_ comfort to Spock, the benefits outweighed the symptoms in this case.   
  
“Mm.” Kirk paused, as though gathering courage for something, before he spoke again. “Do you want to go to the rec room? Play chess or something?”   
  
“Yes,” Spock said, simply, and gently disengaged himself from Kirk before standing up. “The prospect is pleasing.”   
  
Without a moment's hesitation, Kirk followed.


End file.
